


How Much Do I Love You

by LokiNeedsHugs1031



Series: Stucky Ficlets [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bubble Bath, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Steve Rogers, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Poetry, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romantic Fluff, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Stucky - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiNeedsHugs1031/pseuds/LokiNeedsHugs1031
Summary: Post-Endgame War, Steve and Bucky are trying to settle into domestic bliss.





	How Much Do I Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themedievalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themedievalist/gifts).



> So here is another fix-it to endgame because a certain somebody gave me feels! And I will always write the wrong for the the cruelty against Stucky so here be some fluff! I hope you guys enjoy!

It was the chirping of birds that was the first culprit of his wakefulness given that they’d fallen asleep with the windows open. Steve buried his face further into the feather down pillow with a quiet groan. The warmth to his left was the second thing he felt, he turned just enough to take in the sight that was his lover and best friend.

Bucky had slept through the night undisturbed, something that was a blessing just as much as _Steve_ sleeping through the night. Ever since the reverse of the snap, returning from the time jump, giving up the shield, they’d been able to settle down in a cabin in the woods. They’d discussed renting an apartment in the city, thinking about moving back to Brooklyn, but both decided that the more seclusion the better, the less noise was even better than seclusion.

He pushed up from the bed in a kind of slow motion and Bucky slept on, his pink mouth slightly parted with sleepy breaths. As carefully as he’d done anything, he brushed the fallen strands of dark hair across Bucky’s brow and tucked it behind his ear. He bent and kissed him on the cheek and pulled the blanket up higher around his shoulders.

He moved into the kitchen, the morning light trickling in through gauzy curtains, he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and searched for a frying pan. He set it to the stove and went to the fridge, he put out eggs, milk, and orange juice. They’d been living here for almost three months and had fallen into a blessedly calm, peaceful routine. The days were getting slowly warmer and warmer he hoped to get out into the lake today if Bucky was feeling up to it.

He got the eggs and milk together, poured them into the pan and went to the record player putting music on low, Bing Crosby his memory supplied, and it made him smile. So preoccupied with making breakfast he startled when arms wrapped around his waist and lips were pressed to the corner of his jaw.

“Morning doll,” Bucky murmured against the shell of his ear.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Steve asked, putting the egg turner to the counter as he returned the embrace and closing his eyes in contentment.

“No,” Bucky said, nuzzling the back of his neck, kissing along the short hairs that had begun to grow out again. “It’s almost 9 sweetheart, you shoulda woken me up, I would have helped.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve replied, turning around in his arms to properly kiss him on the mouth.

“I like you like this,” Bucky grinned, eyes still heavy with sleep, warm, shirtless and his cheeks were flushed.

“And that is?” Steve chuckled, eyes brows raised in question as he realized they’d begun to sway back and forth as the record went to the next song. Jo Stafford, a song that made his chest clench only in the slightest. To squelch it he allowed Bucky to continue to rock side to side and hold him closer.

“I like seeing you all domestic, haven’t had this since before the war…” Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes it seemed. “I mean _our_ war, back home…” he shook his head like he was wont to do when he wanted to forget something. “I like you all ‘in the kitchen with Dinah’”

That made Steve laugh for real, out loud and kiss Bucky’s cheek, turning back to the stove, “This’ll burn if we keep this up.”

So Bucky kept him in a loose embrace, continuing the gentle motion of his hips against Steve’s “So what are we doing today?”

Steve wanted to say out loud what he planned, but he knew Bucky would object. The last couple days had been processing, working through this or that, one trauma or another. Bruce had been insistent about one thing and that was therapy, there were good sessions, and then there were bad sessions. This last one for Bucky had been difficult, a lot of abandonment issues brought to light, things Steve hadn’t even realized. It had taken two days of Bucky basically going non-stop, if it wasn’t chopping wood, it was cleaning out the toolshed, or starting on the garden. Anything and everything physical, so Steve decided today would be the opposite of that, hence why he was glad to have woken up way before the other man.

“Well, we’re gonna eat breakfast and then I thought we’d do a whole lot of nothin’.” Steve supplied, scooping eggs onto two plates, “Come on let’s eat.”

“Nothin’ huh?” Bucky asked, cocking an eyebrow of his own.

“Yep,” Steve said, leading him to the dinner table, “Whole lotta nothin’.”

They’d eaten their breakfast and Steve wasn’t sure how he was able to manage it but he’d gotten Bucky to agree to get in the lake and simply swim. Not a workout, not who could swim the fastest, a simply lounging swim. The summer had been mild, nothing too hot and the sounds of locusts in the trees was soothing and sleepy, there was testament to that as Bucky eventually grew calm enough it seemed to float on his back, head backwards, limbs out in every direction and eyes closed. Steve sat on the dock, sketch book in hand, observing his best friend and feeling as though his heart might burst with affection, he sketched him out in painful detail, especially around his eyes the curve of his lips.

“You checkin’ me out?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet reverie, smile on that pink mouth, eyes still closed.

“Of course I am,” Steve grinned, “Keep floatin’ like that.”

Bucky did as told, looking as though he might have dozed in the water, his arms going out like wings ever so often, the glint of metal catching the light of the afternoon.

Satisfied with his work he set the paper to the dock, a dry spot, and eased into the water careful enough to not cause waves. He always let Bucky know when he was approaching and scooped his arms up and under Bucky’s floating form, one arm under his knees, the other beneath his back, pulling him close to his chest and kissing him on the mouth. Bucky reciprocated, snaking his arms around Steve’s shoulders and melting into the tender kiss as easy as breathing.

This was everything that they had fought for, everything they’d almost died for. Too many years, too much lost time.

“You’re thinkin’” Bucky’s voice interrupted his thoughts, nipping his bottom lip before gripping his chin in one hand and kissing him stupid. “Don’t think…”

Steve wanted to roll his eyes, but there was a seriousness in Bucky’s voice that made him stop, so he only smiled in a soft and hopefully reassuring way, “Yeah, yeah, no thinkin’.”

He swung Bucky around in his arms, sloshing the water up and around them, and despite the rule of not ‘thinking’ Bucky went quiet and his arms were more than firm around Steve, locked, and Steve only held on pressing kisses into the unruly strands of wet hairs clinging to Bucky’s cheeks.

Self-care. A notion that Bruce suggested for both of them to work on, even at his insistence that he wasn’t ‘that kind of doctor’. Steve had his own brand of this and executed it whenever he deemed it fit. Today was one of those days. They’d swam off and on, despite going somewhat quiet around noon. They ate lunch, watched some television before they both got bored ended up listening to music. Inevitably towards the evening Bucky’s shoulder, around the seam, would begin to ache, which only meant that rain was moving in. The darkening sky towards the evening was not wrong and soon enough, as they lounged on the couch, Steve could hear the tell-tale signs of rain beating against the cabin’s roof. Bucky never complained about it, never even groaned or moaned of which Steve would have preferred. Bucky never let on that he was hurting, as they sat on the couch together near dozing Bucky would shift more and more as the night went on until Steve finally offered any kind of solution.

“How about a bath?” Steve suggested, the huge claw-footed tub in their bathroom was a godsend.

Bucky’s already heavy eyes opened and closed, “Isn’t it late?”

Steve glanced at the mantle clock, an antique they’d picked up first thing when they’d talked about decorating. “Not too late…about eleven…you sit tight I’ll get it running.”

He left no room for argument and got up from the couch, he poured Epsom salts into the hot running water, keeping it just above tolerable the way they both liked. He pushed the bath table to the side, something that Bucky had joked was ‘girly’ until he realized it wasn’t only handy for bathing as it was for sexy bathing. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

Soon enough the tub was full, the room filled with the smell of humidity and lavender. When he returned to the living room Bucky was as is, head turned into the softness of a pillow he’d hugged to his chest. In the back of his mind he wondered just how long it would take the two of them to completely relax. To realize that all of this was possible and real and finite.

“Sweetheart,” he spoke low, bending at the waist and kissing his forehead, “Let’s get in the tub, it’ll do you good.”

Bucky cleared his throat, eyes drowsily opening but nodding and allowing Steve to pull him up from the couch. He maneuvered the man into the room, both hands on his waist and positioned him on the closed toilet, already removing clothes without asking.

“You’ re gonna full on baby me aren’t you…” it didn’t seem to be a question, merely a statement.

Steve only smiled, “Sure am.” he tugged his pants away as well as his boxers. Hurriedly Steve undressed as well, settling them both beneath the warm, scented water. He eased Bucky against his chest so he could sink deeper into the tub. He reached sideways and grabbed the large sponge, he filled it full of the water and dragged it across Bucky’s chest and he was rewarded with a happy groan.

“That feel good honey?”

Bucky inhaled deeply, shimmying backwards against Steve’s chest, “Yeah, it does…why you being all mushy…”

Steve made another pass with the sponge, “I think we’re deserving all the mushy we can get sweetheart. Just relax, huh? Been a rough last couple days…this’ll guarantee good sleep…”

There was another exhale that swirled the damp air around them, “Baby doll…I don’t mean to worry you.”

“You’re not,” Steve interrupted, placing one hand over Bucky’s heart, “Just sayin’…mushy ain’t bad, huh?”

Thankfully Bucky breathed a soft laugh, “Guess not…” another deep breath, “This is nice…really nice…I could do this every night.”

Feeling accomplished Steve kissed the top of his head, continuing his gentle bathing, “Then we’ll do this every night.”

They stayed in the tub until they were pruned, they both dressed and were now wrapped up in bed, the record player now playing once more while the storm raged on outside. They’d grown tired of the television, so Steve had begun to read, then begun to read out loud with Bucky’s insistence. The lights flickered off and on, both men flinching and Steve prayed to any God out there that it would calm and not unravel his calming work tonight. Bucky was resting up against his chest like he had been in the bathtub, cheek nuzzling against his shoulder. “Keep reading.”

“I’m sorry about the thunder,” Steve sighed, running fingers through Bucky’s hair in just the right way as goosebumps riddled the other man’s flesh.

“It’s okay,” Bucky answered dismissively. “J-Just keep reading.”

There it was, Steve thought, that thinly veiled fear. He’d drawn the curtains, so the only evidence of the storm was the noise. So Steve continued to read, a book of poetry. It was something they’d done in the old days. Something his own mom had done. Read when the panic set in, or depression, or fear. Any of the above.

Without asking Steve held him closer, settling deeper down into the thick blankets and Bucky followed, ear to his chest, arms locked around his waist. It was in these moments that Steve wanted to wrap him up and vow that nothing would ever hurt the two of them again. Especially with such a noisy storm raging outside, the last few months would come rushing by The fear that Bucky had of Steve leaving him, going back in time and never returning. How devastatingly relieved Bucky looked when Steve _did_ return. He’d crossed the short space between them, leapt into Steve’s arms, and sobbed, loud, and messy.

Steve would never forgive himself for every allowing Bucky to think he would leave him like that. In any state, in any world, in any time period.

Bucky’s lips were suddenly on Steve’s, languidly, lazy, assuredly. “Ya think way too loud sweetheart.”

Steve felt his eyes begin to burn, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Bucky’s playful expression softened, and he bit his bottoms lip and cocked his head, “It’s you and me, Stevie. Always you and me.”

Steve swallowed roughly and nodded. “I know that. I know.”

“Then stop guessin’” Bucky frowned, kissing him once more and with an unrestrained huff fell against his chest.

“I never guess Buck,” Steve countered, “Just so you know. I never planned on ever going anywhere. I would never go anywhere you weren’t. I could never really live in a world where you aren’t.”

“Sounds like a marriage proposal, punk.” Bucky managed to laugh, propping his chin up to lock eyes with Steve in a way that made Steve go watery on the inside.

“Maybe it is, jerk.” Steve countered and he expected something more, but the thing was, it was them, not weird, not a surprise. They never really needed words.

“Thought we kinda already were hitched but I wouldn’t mind makin’ it official.”

The nonchalant nature of Bucky’s voice was typical Bucky. Big deal, but let’s make it _not_ a big deal.

“Oh yeah?” Steve bit back a smile.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky was grinning ear to ear.

“Okay,” Steve replied stupidly.

And as Bucky moved up from his chest, kissing him deeply, as if sealing a deal, it all seemed perfect.

“Sounds like a plan baby doll.” Bucky sighed, falling back over Steve’s chest, draping his body over Steve’s like always. He squeezed Steve’s hip, running a thumb over the exposed flesh there, and kissed him just below his sternum. “Keep reading.”

With the storm finding its place against the edges of the cliffside, so did Steve, all the while reading Robert Frost’s a _The Road Not Taken._

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference.

It had made all the difference, without a doubt.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review!


End file.
